I'm a big, big girl in a big, big world
by IaMcHrIsSi
Summary: The other side of things, or: Ziva, in between. SPOILERS FOR 13x24, Ziva centric
The sun is getting low, sending a beautiful red and yellow spectacle to the clouds above the busy city. Tel Aviv is always busy, always buzzing with so much energy. Usually, Ziva loves it.

Today, though, she can't bring herself to care, can't even look at the beauty of the sun setting over one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Because today, there are five pregnancy tests lying in front of her, and all of them are positive.

Ziva feels like laughing, but she has a feeling that that would lead to her becoming slightly hysterical, so she swallows the laugh down and just continues staring. _Pregnant._ She is _pregnant._ Of all the things she thought could happen in her life, of all the things she expected of the next few months, this is not one of them.

 _Pregnant._ She is carrying a child, a little baby that is both her and Tony. How did this even happen?

 _(She knows exactly how it happened, remembers the nights with Tony as if they were yesterday, has treasured the memory in the month since he's been back to America.)_

How is she supposed to be a mother? Could she be a mother, an _Ima_? Does she even want this? Does she want a baby to take care of, a child that is her own? Would she be a good mother, or should she just end this now and never think about it again?

Ziva closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Tony appears before her, smiling at her like he had on that last day, happy and loving but sad, too, because he was leaving, because they were going to be apart again.

He would be here in a second if she called, she is sure of it. Tony would leave everything behind, would quite the NCIS if she asked him to, just to be with her. He'd want this baby, too. For a moment, she lets herself imagine it. The three of them, together, living somewhere in Israel. Or maybe Paris? She's always loved Paris, and now that she's thinking it, she can't stop imagining going there together, sitting in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and teaching their child how to walk. It seems like a dream, like the best thing that could ever happen.

But it wouldn't be. Tony loves his job at the NCIS. It's not just something to pay the bills, it's his life. Ziva can't take that away from him. She can't pull him away from something that is so much part of how Tony defines himself, can't be the reason he has to give it up. And he'd feel obligated to give it up, Ziva knows. He'd feel obligated to move wherever Ziva and the baby go, to leave his life behind and follow them.

She can't do that to him. Tony deserves so much better than her being a burden that pulls him down.

Ziva realises, after a moment, that she's stopped wondering whether she wants that baby. It's all about whether or not to tell Tony now, not about the baby anymore. The baby is just a fact, now.

"I guess I have my answer." She mutters to herself, laying her hand on her still flat belly. It's not going to be easy, she knows that. It's going to be hard. The hardest thing she has ever done. But... she's kinda looking forward to it.

* * *

She visits her family's graves two weeks after she took the tests. Ari is not buried here, of course, the traitor is not allowed to rest with those who stayed pure. Though, whether her _Abba_ was more pure than Ari in the end is a question Ziva doesn't think she truly wants the answer to.

She lays down flowers for them, for _Ima, Abba,_ and Tali. She even has some for Ari. She's not sure why she bought them, not sure whether Ari would want them, if she truly wants to honor him like this, but it would have felt wrong not to bring them, so she lays them down in between the graves of her _Abba_ and Tali.

Then she sits down in front of the graves. It's something she's seen other people do, when they want to talk to dead loved ones. It's probably stupid, because her family is dead, and it's not like they are going to come out of the graves and offer advice or encouragement or anything, but still.

"So." She says, and stares at the gravestones. They are in perfect condition, clean and pretty and expensive. Ziva suspects Orli. "I am going to have a baby."

The words still feel wrong on her tongue, as though a part of her still hasn't accepted them. Her, a mother? It feels like something out of a bedtime story, or a dream, but she knows it's not.

"I have no idea how I'm going to handle this, no idea how to raise a baby." Ziva has to stop for a moment, consider her next words. It's a bit funny, actually, how her family is dead and she still wants to choose the right way to tell them all of this.

"But I do know I want this. It's probably stupid and there is a good chance it'll blow up in my face, like everything good in my life does, but... I want this. I want this baby. I want there to be a child that looks at me and calls me _Ima._ I want to be a mother. I never thought I would, you know. I never thought that this could ever be anything I could like. I thought I was... damaged, somehow. I mean, I still probably am. Damaged, I mean. But... maybe not too damaged for this child. I hope so, at least."

Somewhere in the distance, a bird calls out. It almost sounds like an answer. For a moment, Ziva tries to figure out what it could mean, then she laughs at herself. It's just a bird, after all.

She turns back to the graves in front of her. They are solid, somewhat impersonal. She wonders if they would feel more like a place of her family if they weren't as clean. She wonders if she'd be more comfortable at the olive tree she'd planted for her _Abba._ But she doesn't move.

"I hope you are proud of me."

* * *

"Do you want to know the gender of your baby?" The gynaecologist asks, and Ziva thinks about it for a moment, wondering what Tony would do if he were here. But no. Ziva has decided to do this alone, to not bring Tony into it at all. This is her own decision.

"Yes, I think I do." She says after a moment, smiling at the patiently waiting gynaecologist. The woman, Dr. Stein, turns to the screen and analyses the picture for a moment. Then she smiles.

"Congratiulations, you are having a girl." She says, and Ziva can't tear her eyes away from the picture on the screen. A girl. She is going to have a daughter. There is going to be a baby girl in a few months that is hers.

She doesn't even notice the tears that are forming in her eyes until Dr Stein tactfully offers her a tissue. A girl. She is going to do right by this girl, she swears to her right then, she is going to make sure that this girl is going to be safe, and loved, and happy. She is not going to be her father, who thought of his children as weapons, she is not going to be Tony's father, who just stopped parenting all together, and she is not going to be her own _Ima,_ dead way too young.

She is going to do right by this girl.

* * *

Orli comes by when she is in her fifth month. Ziva has started wearing loose clothing, stuff that conceals her slowly growing belly, but one look at Orli tells her that the woman who might have been her stepmother in another life is not fooled in the slightest.

"Are you happy, Ziva?" Is the first question Orli asks after the obligatory small talk, and Ziva has to actually think about her answer. She still doesn't fully trust Orli, will probably never reach a point where that's possible, but she also has a feeling that this time, Orli genuinely just wants to make sure she is okay.

"I think so." Ziva answers after a long moment, and Orli nods. She sees the older woman look around the room, sees her gaze catch on the parenting books Ziva has amassed in the last few weeks, on the crib she has already bought and put together.

"I know you don't trust me, not really. And I know we'll never be close, but... you're family to me, Ziva. If you ever need help..." Orli doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to. Ziva smiles. She doesn't think she'll ever take Orli up on her offer, but it's nice that it was given anyway.

"Thank you." She says, and she means it.

Before Orli leaves, she gives Ziva a card with her number on it. It's not the official number, in fact Ziva has never seen that particular number before. Orli doesn't comment on it, and neither does Ziva, but she puts the card away somewhere safe and hopes that there will never be a day she'll have to call that number.

* * *

"I'm going to call her Tali."

It's not much of a decision, really. There was never a doubt that if Ziva ever had a daughter, she would honor her sister like this. It was the only name she'd ever even considered, the only name there _is_ for her daughter.

Still, she feels the need to tell her sister about it. She thinks Tali would approve. She hopes so, at least. She remembers her on that last day as though it was yesterday, remembers Tali's smile and that sense of hope she'd always carried with her.

She hopes that her daughter will have that, too.

But that's a problem, too, isn't it? Is she burdening her daughter by giving her the name of her dead sister? Is she trying to push her child into becoming like her sister? Is this fair to her little girl?

She does not want to have a Tali replacement. That's not possible, and honestly? Her daughter is going to be her own person. A person that is half Tony and half Ziva and fully her own human being.

It's going to be enough.

* * *

She invites Shmiel over after months of procrastinating. She's been in contact with him, sure. Has called him every other day. But she's never had the courage to just invite him over for tea. He's figured out that something is going on, she knows. Something different then the last of her family being gone now, too. But he hasn't pried, has just accepted that she'll tell him when she's ready.

Now... well, she's not entirely sure she's ready, but she knows she can't avoid this any longer. It's stupid, anyway. Shmiel is a rabbi, yes, but Ziva knows he won't judge her. He just wants her to be happy, nothing else. But still, there's a flutter of nervousity as she opens the door for him that she hasn't felt in a very long time.

"Shalom my dear Ziva" He says, allowing her to hug him. She's in her seventh month, she's definitively showing now, but Shmiel doesn't seem to be particularly surprised. He just smiles at her serenely, like he always does. It makes Ziva feel lighter, somehow, as if a huge weight has been lifted of her shoulders.

"Are you well?" He asks when she offers him tea, and Ziva smiles. She doesn't have to pretend with him, doesn't have to act as if things are okay if they aren't. Today, though, she feels perfectly fine.

"Yes, Shmiel, I am." She tells him, and he nods. He takes in the room, a bit like Orli did, but somehow so differently, too. When Orli scans a room, she's always looking for threats first, and for everything else second. Ziva does the same thing. It's the Mossad training, she thinks.

But Shmiel, he looks around and the first things he notices are whether or not she's happy with something. He can read a lot into the way she has arranged her books, or how she chose pastel pink for her curtains, or how there is a picture of her and Tony in Paris sitting on the window still. He doesn't comment on any of it, just takes it in, and then takes her hand.

"Are you happy?" He asks, and Ziva can't help but wonder how it is that everyone asks her that. Is she happy? Yes, of course she is. She is safe, she is going to have a daughter, she has all the time in the world for everything... of course she is happy.

And yes, she does miss Tony. And Gibbs, who had been much more of a father to her then she's been willing to admit these last few months. And McGee and Abby who had been brother and sister to her when she needed them most. And Ducky, who was the weird uncle she'd always wished she had back here. And Jimmy, awkward as he was, a cousin maybe.

She misses them all, misses them so much it hurts, but she has made her choice. She made her choice a few months ago, and she's not even considering changing it now. Because if she lets herself think about it for too long she is going to wind up packing her bags and booking a flight, and she doesn't want that. She made her choice.

"I think so." She says. It's the same answer she gave Orli, and Shmiel even has a similiar expression in his eyes as he looks at her. It's … softer, though. Or maybe that's just because Ziva trusts Shmiel more.

"You know you can always count on me, whenever you need me." He says, and Ziva smiles. Yes, she does know it. And she does know that she can trust him, in a way she just can't trust Orli.

"I know." She says, and puts her hand over her belly. "Her name is Tali."

Shmiel beams.

* * *

The last month of her pregnancy is hard. Tali kicks a lot, waking her in the middle of the night. Ziva can't find a comfortable position to sleep in, and she's always tired. Dr. Stein tells her that that's normal, that everything is alright. She jokes that maybe it's hitting Ziva so hard because she sat out on the morning sickness deal.

Ziva can't really laugh about it. It's not that she's angry or offended by Dr. Steins comments, she'd actually probably find them at least somewhat funny if she wasn't so tired all the time.

Shmiel comes over a lot. He says that he's in the area, that he just thought she'd like to see him a bit, and brings some food he "coincidentally" had with him. Ziva doesn't believe it for a second. She's thankful anyway.

She misses Tony in a way she hasn't since he'd left, in a way that almost feels physically painful. They've never done the whole domestic thing, never lived together or anything, but now she can't help but think about it. She imagines him waking her up in the morning, or the two of them cooking together, or just sitting together, his hand on her belly.

He has a right to know, she thinks. But if he knew, if she told him, he'd feel obligated to come. He'd feel obligated to leave everything behind, to give up what makes him him. She can't do that to him.

And so she doesn't call him, not when she's lying on her bed, missing him like crazy, not when Dr. Stein asks her if she wants anyone to be there for the birth, not when she feels so tired and drained that she thinks she's going to fall asleep standing.

She can't be a burden for him. He deserves better than that.

* * *

The moment they hand her her daughter, after 21 hours of labor, is one Ziva will never forget. Tali is red and screaming and tiny and the most precious thing in the entire world.

Ziva holds her daughter close to herself, looking at the tiny red face, at her little fingers that are curling around hers with a strenght that Ziva didn't expect, at the eyes that are so clearly Tony's. She feels tears running down her cheeks, happy tears.

It takes a few minutes for Tali to calm down, to stop screaming, but Ziva savours every single second of it. This is her daughter, her little baby girl. She still can't believe it, can't believe that this is real.

"I love you, tataleh." She whispers, and smiles at the her daughter.

* * *

Shmiel picks her up. Orli had offered, but Ziva wants Shmiel to be the one with her now. He can't drive, and neither can she, not right now, so they take a cab. Tali sleeps through the ride, thankfully.

At home, Ziva puts her daughter in the crib and, after making sure Shmiel is fine with watching her for the moment _(he is actually really exited about it)_ she goes for a quick shower. She'd been able to shower at the hospital, sure, but... this feels better.

When she comes back, Tali is awake and Shmiel is singing for her quietly. It's a picture Ziva wants to remember forever, the old man holding this tiny little girl in his arms and smiling at her with such love in his eyes.

She stands back, doesn't want to disturb them, and just watches. It gives her a peace she hasn't had in a long time, a feeling that things are in the right place, that everything is going to be alright.

Of course, the peace cracks only moments later. Tony isn't here. He should be. This is his daughter. He should be here with them, welcoming this little bundle of joy into their home.

But Ziva has made her choice. She is not going to back out now.

And anyway, if she told him now, when Tali is already born, when he will realize that she kept it from him for months? He is going to be so angry. And maybe this is Ziva being a coward, but she does not want to deal with this. Not now.

* * *

Orli visits two days after Tali is born. She seems almost... awkward standing in Tali's room, looking at this tiny little baby. As though she doesn't know what to do with herself. Somehow, this is one of the strangest things Ziva has ever seen.

"This is Kelav" Orli says and shows Ziva a stuffed little dog. It's cute, and looks somewhat expensive. "I... I didn't know what you thought about toys, but... a stuffed animal is always good, isn't it?" Orli is almost nervous. Almost.

"Yes, they are." Ziva says. She's still tired, still feels her whole body aching, but she's smiling. It's nice to know that Orli cares, even though she knows that they'll probably always be awkward around each other.

"I'm sure she'll love it." Orli smiles at these words, and puts the dog to Tali into the crib. Ziva offers her tea, and starts talking about the new building that's going to be build in the street Ziva grew up in.

It's nice to have something like family here.

* * *

There are days when she wonders how this all happened. When Tali won't settle at night because she is fussy and Ziva hasn't truly slept in days and the house is a mess and she just wonders how the universe thought that she could be a good mother.

She could kill any hostile with her bare hands if she needed to, could hike up the highest mountain or disappear in the middle of Washington, but Tali … Tali is a whole different sort of challenge.

Ziva tries, she tries so very hard to be the best mother she could possibly be. She has researched parenting tactics, has read books upon books about child development and how to best care for a baby. She has bought all the expensive stuff, because there is nothing that is too expensive for Tali.

But there's still days when she feels like an utter failure.

Those are the days she misses Tony the most. He'd make some joke, make her smile, and then he'd tell her to go to sleep, he'd take over this shift. Or he'd surprise her with the best chocolate he could find, telling her that she's worth it. Or maybe they'd just sit down together, admitting that they are both failures at the whole parenting thing, but at least they are together.

She almost calls him over a dozen times. She has his number on speed dial, and the temptation to call him, to just hear his voice again, is so dang strong. But she doesn't.

* * *

Things get easier.

 _Not that it will ever be_ easy _again,_ Ziva thinks as she changes Tali's diaper. She'll always have Tali to think about, always have this little girl that is no the focal poitn of her world. But... she adjusts. She's figuring out how this whole thing is supposed to work.

Sure, there are still nights where Tali isn't sleeping at all, or days where Ziva feels like _she_ is going to fall asleep standing, but... they're adjusting. Ziva starts to figure out how breastfeeding works, and she starts to allow herself to sleep in the middle of the day, Tali next to her so that she'll wake up if anything happens.

She introduces Tali to her family. Not that her family will notice, given that they are all dead, but... she takes her daughter to the graveyard and sits down in front of the graves and talks to them.

 _(Tali falls asleep halfway through, but that's okay. At least she's there)_

She goes for long walks. Being carried around calms Tali, and so Ziva starts making trips through the city, showing Tali all her favorite places. Tali won't remember, of course, but it still feels amazing to have her there, with Ziva, as she walks through the streets.

* * *

"Does her father know?" Orli's question comes out of the blue one day. Ziva should probably have expected it sooner or later, but for a moment she feels as though she has just walked into a wall.

"No." She says, putting down her cup of tea a bit more forcefully then strictly necessary. "Tony doesn't know. I didn't tell him."

Honestly, Ziva doesn't know when or how tea with Orli became a thing she does regularly. Or when she started telling Orli of all people personal things. But for a moment, she regrets it.

"Dinozzo would be here within a day if he knew, you know." Orli's voice is even, calm. There's no question who Tony is, and no judgement, either. Still, to Ziva it feels as though there is.

"I … I don't want to be a burden. He has his life, and he shouldn't have to give it all up just for me. I know he'd do it if I told him, that's why I haven't. He deserves a life of his own. Without me." It feels wrong to say it like this. As though she hasn't almost called him yesterday.

"Don't you think that should be his choice?" Orli asks, watching Tali play with the little dog she'd gifted her. Ziva looks at Tali, too, not wanting to have to look Orli in the eyes, for fear she'll crack.

"It wouldn't be a choice for him. He'd feel obligated to come. I don't want to do that to him. I don't want to be the one who forced him to give his life up." She whispers, but there is not that much conviction behind it.

* * *

Tali's first word is Ima.

The first time Ziva hears her say it, she feels so incredibly proud and happy. It never stops being one of the best things in the world, to hear this tiny voice say Ima and now it's meant for her.

She starts showing Tali pictures. The photo of Paris has always had it's place in Tali's room, but now Ziva takes it from the wall and shows it to Tali while she tells her stories about her _Abba._ Soon Tali starts pointing Tony out on the photo, and it both breaks Ziva's heart and heals it again, because Tony should be here, he should see their little girl, but at least she knows who he is, she won't grow up wondering about him, because Ziva is here to tell her all about him.

She shows Tali other pictures, too. Pictures of Gibbs and Fornell, of McGee and Abby, of Ducky and Jimmy. Every time she tells her daughter a new story about them, some funny anecdote or a very toned down adventure story.

Sometimes, she takes out older pictures. She shows her daughter the first Tali, sixteen and happy and beautiful, she shows her a picture of her own parents, of Ziva's _Abba_ and _Ima_ when they were both young and happy. Once she even shows her a picture of Ari, fifteen and careless and happy.

It feels good to tell Tali these stories. It hurst, but it still feels good, somehow. As though Ziva is making her peace with all that's happened.

* * *

She wonders, sometimes, whether it's bad that Tali doesn't speak any English. Not that Tali speaks any language very well, she is a toddler after all, but... all the words she knows are Hebrew. All the people around her speak Hebrew, or sometimes Jiddish. If Tony were to show up tomorrow, Tali wouldn't understand a word he says.

Whenever she thinks about it, Ziva makes an effort to speak more English. She'll sing Tali an English song, or watch CNN instead of Isreali news, but it all soon falls to the wayside again. Here, in Tel Aviv, Ziva is just so much more _comfortable_ speaking Hebrew.

She'll teach her when she's older, Ziva thinks. Or when she finally has the guts to call Tony. Because he needs to know, she's admitting that to herself now. Tony has a right to know that he has a daughter, and she does not have the right to keep it from him.

Orli offers to help Ziva with that, offers to get her two flights to Washington, or a secure phone line, or whatever else Ziva might need. It's that more than anything, this willingness to help even though it would earn Orli absolutely nothing, that proves to Ziva just how much Orli cares. Still, she refuses all of it.

One day, she will find the courage to call him, to tell him about this beautiful, amazing little girl that is his daughter as much as she is hers, that has changed her world so much and will change his, too. But not yet.

* * *

She doesn't know what wakes her up and makes her go check the perimeter.

Tali is sleeping peacefully with Kalev, and everything is quiet. They live outside of the city, so the silence isn't exactly a warning sign, but... something bothers Ziva. Something is off today, and if there is anything Gibbs taught her it's to trust her gut on things like this.

She goes into Tali's room, putting together a go bag. If it's nothing, she can always unpack it again, but it gives her a certain security. On a hunch she puts in the picture of Paris, too.

Long ago, when she had first put the picture on the wall, she had decided to make that her emergency plan. Paris. She's always loved it, especially since she'd been there with Tony. If anything ever happens, she'll go there. There is a message on the back of the photo. Tony would find it, he has found her through clues in photos before. She hopes he doesn't need to.

Then, one of her alarm systems starts beeping. It's one of the perimeter sweeping systems Orli had given her, and one look at it confirms Ziva's worst fears. There is a man sitting on a rock a few hundred feets away from the house, close enough to be in perfect range for a number of destructive weapons.

She runs, grabs Tali and the go bag, and jumps out of the window.

* * *

Mossad is fast. Much faster than she'd given them credit for. After only a few minutes they are swarming the place, coordinating with the rescue workers and trying to find clues to figure out what happened.

Orli herself holds Tali close to her chest.

It's one of the hardest things Ziva has ever done, leaving Tali there for Orli to find her, but she knows it's necessary. Somebody is after her, somebody is willing to blow up an entire house just to kill Ziva. If that someone realizes Ziva isn't dead he'll try again. That time, Ziva might not be so lucky.

Orli will take Tali to Tony. She knows that that's what Ziva wants, and she also knows that that means that Tali will be safe. Attacking Ziva here is one thing, but going to the United States and attacking the daughter of a federal agent? That's something different.

Tali will be safe there and cared for, much more so then Ziva could offer right now. It's not how Ziva wanted Tony to learn about it, not at all how she imagined all of this going, but right now she has a job to do.

Someone almost killed her daughter. She is going to make sure that someone never ever comes near Tali again.

* * *

Ziva disappears. She knows how to do this, has done it often enough in the past. Even after years of not being in the spy business at all, she still knows exactly how this game is played. She was one of the Mossads best, after all.

She has a name within 4 days. Trent Kort. A few hours later, she has three independent confirmations that he is dead. Killed by NCIS agents, specifically by a team led by a Leeroy Jethro Gibbs.

She almost wants to laugh. There she goes, lets everybody believe she's dead and sends away her daughter and everything, and the guy was actually after the NCIS? It feels a bit like a sort of cruel irony.

Well, at least the whole thing forced her hand. Now Tony knows. He also thinks she's dead, which should be interesting, to put it mildly, but he _knows._ About Tali. He _knows._ According to Orli, he had been very surprised.

The older woman herself hadn't been all that surprised when Ziva had shown up in her office. There had been enough room for reasonable doubt, she'd said, but the way she smiled had given away her utter relief at finding Ziva truly unharmed.

She'd promised Ziva to look into Kort, to figure out whether he there were any sort of other people that were connected to him, and then she'd given Ziva a hug. She'd never done that before. It had actually... felt good.

Ziva says goodbye to Shmiel, who just smiles serenely and wishes her luck, and picks up the few of her belongings that were not completely destroyed by the fire or the explosion.

The next morning, Ziva is on a plane to Paris.

* * *

She books a room in the hotel Tony and her had stayed at when they were here years ago. It still looks the same, and it makes her smile whenever she remembers the days they spend here.

Now, she wonders whether she should stay here, in her room, or wait in the lobby, or possibly go to the places they've been, the cafe they'd liked so much or that museum she had dragged Tony to. All of it would make sense, yet she is too afraid to leave this place, to afraid to miss him. Them.

She has never been apart from Tali for more than a few hours, and she misses her so much it's almost a physical ache. Much stronger than she'd ever missed Tony. She hadn't thought that possible, but that's probably just what being a mother does to a person.

She lies down on the bed, clutching one of Tali's toys, a stuffed bear she'd dubbed Ducky, close to her chest. There might be a few tears, but she won't admit that, not even to herself.

Her daughter is safe. She is with Tony, with her _father_. They are both safe and alive and healthy and happy and they are both coming here, to her. No need to cry. They will be here soon.

She misses them, though. Misses them both so darned much.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Ziva moves to grab the knife she still always carries from her boot before she even thinks about it. She'd thought she'd gotten out of that habit in the months she's lived in Tel Aviv, but apparently five days pretending to be dead and searching for clues are enough to make her go for it all over again.

Quietly, she goes to the door, listens to the noises that come from the other side.

"Abba." A voice says, a voice that's so familiar and loved and whiny that Ziva almost starts crying in earnest. She hears Tony _(Tony!)_ answering, but she doesn't wait for what he says, just opens the door widely.

There they are. Tali looks tired, sleepy. Her hair is a bit messy, but not any worse then when Ziva has a bad day. She's dressed in a clean dress and holds Kalev.

Tony looks just as tired. His hair is much more of a mess, and she'll definitively have to get him to get a haircut, because this looks somewhat ridiculous. He's wearing jeans and a leather jacket and he carries Tali, even though there is a buggy right in front of him.

For a moment, they just stand there, taking each other in. There is a look in Tony's eyes that Ziva can't quite read, tiredness and anger and love and happiness and sadness and frustration all mixed together, and suddenly she is afraid, afraid that he's going to be so angry, that they'll never have a chance because she didn't tell him.

"Ima." It's Tali who breaks the somewhat tense silence, reaching for Ziva as soon as she realizes who is standing there. Slowly, carefully, Ziva takes her daughter out of Tony's arms, pulls her close to her, breathes her in. It feels as though for the first time in seven days a weight has been lifted of her shoulders.

Tony is still standing there. He hasn't said a word, hasn't moved at all, is just staring at her, at Tali. Ziva doesn't know what to say, because suddenly there is so much she wants to tell him, so much that she just needs to say, but at the same time she has no idea how to put any of it in words.

"Ziva" Tony says, finally, and it sounds as though he is drowning, as though he can't believe it, as though he thinks he's dreaming. Ziva can't really blame him for it. She feels the same way.

She tries to smile, tries her best to be reassuring, both for him, for Tali, who is snuggeling on her shoulder, and for herself, because this is it. This is what she's been waiting for. "Tony" she says and hates the way her voice breaks.

Then he's suddenly moving, taking her in his arms, almost crushing her against him. Ziva holds on tightly, she doesn't ever want to let go again, not of him and not of Tali. She thinks she feels tears coming from him, and she knows there are some running down her own cheeks, too, but she doesn't care.

Tony is here, and Tali is here, and they are all together. That's all that matters.

* * *

Later, there are accusations. Of course there are. Tony has every right to be angry, to be mad that she didn't tell him. They keep their voices low, as to not wake up Tali, but they can't escape the fight.

For a few moments, Ziva is so very afraid again. Tony is so angry. What if they'll never be a family now? What if she gave up that chance and destroyed whatever happiness there might be in store for them because she was too much of a coward to tell him.

And now he has given up his job, too. The one thing she never wanted him to have to do, the reason she never told him about Tali, never asked him to come to her, never called for help. He has given it up, and it's her fault.

Tony must have seen something of her thoughts in her eyes or her expression, because he takes her hand in his and looks her in the eyes.

"I am incredibly glad that you are still alive. I am very very happy to have Tali, because she is one seriously amazing little girl and I really, really love her. I just... need a bit time to process all of this, okay?"

"Okay." She says, her voice small and afraid, and Tony lets go of her hand to cup her face with his hands. He looks her in the eyes, looks at her lips, looks her in the eyes again, asking for permission, and then he kisses her, or she kisses him, and it is everything she has ever wanted. She melts into his arms, and just for a moment, the world is alright.

* * *

Waking up the next morning feels like a dream. Tony's arms are around her, holding her close, and Tali lies next to them, still snoring softly. When Ziva looks up, she sees Tony looking at her, as though he has to reassure himself that she is still there, that she is truly alive.

She smiles, and gives him a kiss.

"What do you think, Ziva." He says, speaking softly to make sure he doesn't wake Tali. "Are you ready for the rest of our lives?"

They still haven't figured out everything. There will be fighting, and Ziva knows that the fact that she didn't tell him still hurts Tony. There will be long, hard conversations, and a few fights, too, probably. It won't be roses and unicorns.

But right now, she is sure they have a chance.

"Absolutely."


End file.
